The Worst Things For Sale

This absurdly-expensive Bluetooth-enabled deadbolt lock is an excellent way to let someone into your house who has stolen your phone. All they’ll have to do to open your front door is open the app on your stolen phone and click “unlock.”

To make matters worse, it seems to have firmware problems, and as one reviewer noted, “when my phone is in the house, whoever touches the lock can unlock it.” And anyone prowling around the neighborhood can identify this piece of shit from its glowing blue ring of LEDs. Great job, guys.

“Lovely gift for any lighthouse fan or collector,” says the manufacturer of these “gummy lighthouses.” They don’t really look like lighthouses to me, but maybe I’ve got a penis-based mindset after spending hours looking at dildos and erotic books to post here.

If you wear these insanely expensive USB cufflinks to a formal occasion where you’d be expected to wear cufflinks, what do you expect to do with them when you’re there?

If you wear them to a place where you wouldn’t be expected to wear cufflinks in the first place, you’re a huge dork.

There is no joy in USB cufflinks.

This light-up car sticker reacts to the volume of your stereo. It’s a great way to tell the other drivers that the pounding bass tones of Darude’s “Sandstorm” are coming from your Fiat.

On second thought, they probably already knew.

Amazed by the rudimentary joke they made, the creators of “Not See Kola” branded their sugar-water with a Nazi-esque label and blackletter typeface. “NOT SEE, do you get it?” I’m guessing they say at least a dozen times a day.

I’m sighing so hard I’m about to pass out from lack of oxygen, but… Not See Kola is from the makers of Leninade.

Hanging an LED sign for your car that flashes a big red middle-finger graphic to the person behind you at the touch of a button is a great way to become the target of someone’s road rage.

If you’re one of the six people on earth who want someone to mess with your pregnant body, painting it and taking pictures of it, then this is still not the thing for you. It’s eight little jars of face paint plus a sponge, for twenty dollars. It is, unsurprisingly, by the makers of “Pregnancy Belly Cast Kit,” a way to turn your motherhood into a bizarre plaster death-mask. (Look at the customer pictures, if you dare.)